


Let This Moment Linger

by NoStrings_OnMe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Married Life, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Vignettes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13549806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoStrings_OnMe/pseuds/NoStrings_OnMe
Summary: A series of short vignettes set to the old Irish love song, "Grace". The story follows Steve and Bucky from before WWII to after the fight on the helicarrier."Grace" tells the real-life story of Joseph Plunkett and his wife, Grace. Joseph was a revolutionary in the 1916 Easter Rising, and was eventually captured and executed as a result. On the eve of his execution, at Kilmainham Gaol, he wed Grace and they were allowed to spend that one night together. It's an incredibly moving song, and an incredibly moving story, and it carries with it the strength and devotion that I see in this pairing.





	Let This Moment Linger

**As we gather in the chapel here, I think about these past few weeks – oh will they say we’ve failed? From our school days they have told us that we must yearn for liberty. Yet all I want, in this dark place, is to have you here with me**.

“So this is it?” Steve asks, his voice thick. He jerks his chin towards the orders lying on their kitchen table. “You’re really leaving, aren’t you?”

Bucky grins wryly, taking another sip of whiskey from his glass. “Tomorrow morning. Off to sock ol’ Hitler right in the jaw.”

Steve clenches his teeth, his jaw flexing. “Don’t joke about it, Buck. This is serious stuff. This is war,” he emphasizes.

“Y’think I don’t know that?” Bucky spits, swigging down the last of the alcohol andsetting the glass down with more force than probably necessary. “What the fuck do I tell you, every damn time you run off down to the recruitment office? I know what war is.”

“That’s – Bucky, you know that’s not…” Steve stutters, but Bucky cuts him off. “That’s exactly what it is, pal,” he says. He pulls his chair closer to Steve’s, looking him in the eyes. “It’s better me than you, and you know it. I’ll go, do my time as a patriot, and come back when we win.” Bucky’s voice is even, but Steve can hear the edge to it, can see the way Bucky is nervously wringing his hands.

“You can be a patriot from Brooklyn,” Steve says softly. “That’s what you tell me, anyways. We can collect scrap metal, we can –”

“Stevie,” Bucky starts, his eyes sad. “There’s no fightin’ this. Not this time. There’s just things that happen, things I gotta do, ‘n this is one of ‘em.” He reaches out and places his hand on Steve’s knee, squeezing gently. “I’ll be okay.”

 _But what if I won’t be?_ Steve thinks, but he responds instead with a weak smile. He covers Bucky’s hand with his own. “I know, Buck. Jus’ gonna miss you, ‘s all,” he whispers, averting Bucky’s gaze.

Bucky stands slowly, guiding Steve with his hand to do the same. “And you think it won’t be the same for me?” he asks. With two fingers, he lifts Steve’s chin to look at him. “Sweetheart…” At the nickname, Steve relaxes, resting his cheek against Bucky’s warm, calloused palm. Bucky strokes his thumb lightly across Steve’s lower lip, before moving to pull the smaller man’s body close against his. “I’ll come back,” he said again, feeling Steve’s arms tighten around his waist. “To you. I’ll come back to you, when this is all over with.”

Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s exposed collarbone. “I know,” he replied, trying to sound more sure than he really felt. “Come back in one piece, okay?”

Bucky laughed, and Steve felt it reverberate through his chest. “Anything you want, doll. Anything you want.” 

 

**Now I know it’s hard for you, my love, to ever understand the love I bear for these brave men, the love for my dear land. When the general called me to his side, I had to leave your sick bed, to him I had to go.**

Bucky rolled over in his sleeping bag, shifting again in a futile attempt to get comfortable. He’d been lying there for what seemed like hours, but sleep seemed impossible. After their narrow escape at Zola’s lab, the subsequent hike through the woods, and the general chaos of his entire past few weeks, the safety and quiet of the Commando’s makeshift camp should have been a welcome relief, but Bucky’s mind just kept spinning.

Spinning back to Steve.

Steve, who was currently patrolling the camp’s perimeter, after checking with Bucky just about a hundred times that yes, he was okay, and no, he didn’t need anything right now. The first part was definitely a lie, but in any event, there was nothing Steve could do. All of his wounds were healing (suspiciously?) quickly, he had eaten and had some water, and even gotten a quick rise-off at the showers. But there was nothing the medic could do about the crushing headache, or the hollow feeling in his chest. So Bucky just kept those things to himself.

And the second part… Bucky needed a million things. He needed an actual bed, not just a glorified blanket on the ground in the middle of the woods. He needed a hot meal, and probably some vegetables. He needed a hard drink.

He needed to go back in time, pay better attention to his surroundings, and prevent his unit from ever getting captured in the first place. He needed to be stronger, to have fought off the doctors in the lab with everything he had, keep their hands and their needles and their straps off of his body. He needed to talk himself out of ever signing up for the army in the first place, and stop himself from lying to Steve that he “just got drafted, y’know, that’s how it works.”

Steve. He needed Steve.

With an exhausted sigh, Bucky zipped himself out of the sleeping bag and tugged on his boots. He threw his blue coat on and headed out towards the edge of camp. He found Steve leaning up against a large tree, hands shoved deep in his pockets, kicking aimlessly at the dirt.

He must have heard Bucky coming, because he didn’t seem startled when Bucky cleared his throat and spoke. “How’s it goin’?” he asked lamely.

“It’s…going,” Steve replied, giving Bucky a half-smile. “What are you doin’ out of bed, Buck? You need your rest.”

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes. An extra two feet and hundred pounds apparently didn’t change shit about Steve’s mother-hen tendencies. “I feel fine, Stevie. ‘M more worried about you, big guy.” He bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own. “I leave ya alone for two minutes ‘n next thing I know you’re showin’ up to drag me outta a burning building.” Steve frowned, a small crease appearing between his brows.

“I, uh, I enlisted,” he shrugged. “And they got me all set up with…this.” He gestured to his body.

“Don’t recall gettin’ that offer down at the recruitment office,” Bucky mused. He reached out as if to touch Steve’s chest, but pulled his hand back suddenly. He’d been gone for almost two years, he reminded himself. Steve had clearly been through…a lot, to say the least. There was no saying that he still wanted this, whatever it was.

“’S okay, I ain’t so breakable these days,” Steve chuckled. “And that’s no surprise. This was sort of a one-time deal.”

“Do you like it?” Bucky asked, his eyes genuine as he looked up at Steve.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. No one, not even Peggy, had asked him something like that. No one else would have known what a monumental change this was for him. Sure, he could run without having an asthma attack, his heart no longer beat irregularly, and he could see all the colors of the rainbow. But…it was different. He was different. His life was different. “It’s alright, I guess,” he said finally. “Everyone else seems to think it’s an improvement.”

“Everyone?” Bucky asked quietly. He moved closer, resting his hand on Steve’s chest, splaying his fingers over the strong muscle. “Nobody asked me.”

Steve prayed silently that Bucky couldn’t feel how rapidly his heart beat underneath the other man’s palm. “What do you think, Buck?” he asked, his voice cracking on his best friend’s name.

“Well, since you _asked_ ,” Bucky began, moving close enough that their noses were almost touching. “I think it’s great. But I also think that you were pretty great before.”

Steve closed the last few inches between them, capturing Bucky’s lips in a kiss. Bucky let out a soft moan, pulling Steve tight against him. They parted after a moment, but remained close, leaning their foreheads together. “Serum didn’t fix everything, I guess,” Steve huffed out, smiling against Bucky’s face.

“Can’t fix what ain’t broke,” Bucky quipped, leaning in to steal another kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter this time.

“What for?” Steve asked, unbothered. He ran his hand gently through Bucky’s hair, brushing away some of the longer strands from the front, and Bucky chased the touch.

“I’m sorry that I left you,” he explained. “I just…I thought you would be better off without me. For a little while, at least. Give you some time to figure things out, explore the world a little bit. Realize that ‘m no good for you.”

Steve pulled back, taking Bucky’s hand in his and kissing at the other man’s knuckles. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “You’re the best part of me.” Bucky closed his eyes and let Steve envelope him in a hug.

“I just wanted to do what was right,” he admitted.

“We’re right. Us, together,” Steve reminded him, pressing a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. “’Til the end of the line.”

 

**Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too. On this May morn, as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you.**

Bucky sat on the edge of the Potomac, water dripping into his eyes from the hair falling into his face. He stared at the man lying next to him, still except for the soft rise and fall of his chest.

I knew him. He was my friend.

Thoughts swirled back and forth in his mind, making it difficult to concentrate. The fight in the helicarrier had thrown Bucky off course. He knew that he was not the Winter Solider, he knew that he was not the Asset. But he also knew that he was not the Bucky Barnes that left Brooklyn all those years ago.

Bits and pieces were coming back to him, but slowly and painfully. Every new memory was met the sharp edges of his broken programming, distorting the meaning. But this man – Steve – came through clearer than all the others. Bucky knew that he was important.

And that was why Bucky had to leave.

If these thoughts, if these memories in his mind were right, then Steve was good. Steve was too good to risk his life fighting to save an internationally wanted assassin. If he was ever going to get some semblance of his old life back, he had to leave Steve on the shore here, alone.

Bucky stood up and walked over to where Steve was lying. He was only unconscious, and would likely wake soon. And Bucky couldn’t be around when he did. Bucky wasn’t sure why, but before he walked away, he knelt down and brushed the hair away from Steve’s forehead. He ghosted his lips over the man’s temple briefly before turning away to disappear, once again.

Bucky couldn’t quite place the feeling in his chest as he slipped through the chaos of New York, but a small voice in the back of his mind whispered heartbreak.

 

**Oh, just hold me in your arms, and let this moment linger. They’ll take me out at dawn, and I will die. With all my love, I place this wedding ring upon your finger. There won’t be time to share our love, for we must say goodbye.**

Steve fumbled with his keys, swearing quietly as they skitted against the lock as he tried to open the door. He’d been gone nearly three weeks, off with Sam and Natasha, rooting out the last of HYDRA’s cells. And looking for Bucky. He’d spend the last two years chasing down every lead, every clue, every possible piece of information that might even give him an idea as to where Bucky could be. But nothing turned up, and he saw the worried glances Sam and Nat exchanged every time they hunted down a dead end. They were running out of options, but no one had the heart to tell him to give up.

He entered the dark apartment, toeing off his shoes at the door. He flicked on the light in the kitchen, intent on scarfing down some leftover takeout before falling into bed, when he saw the figure seated at the island.

Dark hair was delicately pulled away from his eyes and knotted at the nape of his neck. He was wearing casual clothes, a dark red hoodie and a pair of jeans, but the sleeves of the hoodie were rolled up enough that Steve could see the sharp glint of metal under the kitchen lights.

“…Bucky?” he asked, incredulous. He dared not move closer, for fear that the man in front of him would dart away in fear.

“Hi Stevie,” Bucky replied, almost shyly. He stood up from the stool and made his way over to Steve, who was still standing shocked in the entryway.

“What – we were just looking for you, Buck, where did you even -”

“I’ve been in hiding,” Bucky explained. “For your safety.”

“My safety? What are you talking about?” Steve demanded. “Bucky, I’m Captain America! What could you do to me?”

“I had to make sure the Winter Soldier was gone before I came back,” he said. “I didn’t know how to handle myself when I broke my programming. I couldn’t be around you until I knew it was safe,” he insisted, pleading to Steve with his eyes.

“I’m not mad at you, Buck,” Steve assured him. “I just…wish you would have let me help you.”

Bucky smirked. “Not everythin’s your fight, punk,” he said. “Let me do this one thing for you.”

Steve couldn’t help but to smile back. “Yeah, alright, jerk,” he grinned. “But you’re back now? For good?”

Bucky’s eyes tightened around the corners. “I’m back…” he said carefully, “but I dunno about ‘for good’.”

Steve’s heart dropped, and he looked away. “’Course, Buck, I understand. You don’t gotta stay here if you don’t wanna, I mean, I’m sure you’ve got other people to see, places to be ‘n all, I just –”

Bucky cut him off with a harsh press of his lips. It wasn’t a tactful kiss; it was more teeth than anything, but after nearly a hundred years, it was the best thing Steve could remember.

“I’m not leavin’ you, doll,” Bucky reassured Steve, drawing back from his mouth. “There’s just some loose ends I gotta tie up. To make sure that I can stay here with ya. If you want.”

“Buck,” Steve rolled his eyes, pulling Bucky close against his shoulder. “I definitely want. But what loose ends are you talkin’ about?”

“SHIELD,” Bucky admitted. “I’m still – I’m wanted, by a lot of important people. Stevie, I did some bad things. Nobody’s just gonna forget that.”

“That wasn’t you,” Steve chided gently. “You aren’t responsible for any ‘a that.”

Bucky smiled sadly. “You’re about the only person that thinks that. Look, I just think that I should bite the bullet, turn m’self in and get it over with. Let ‘em throw the book at me, and let the chips fall where they may.”

“What if they never give you back to me?” Steve asked quietly, voice shaking.

“If I’m as innocent as you believe,” Bucky said slowly, “then I’ll be here with bells on before next weekend.”

Steve was silent for a moment as he considered this. “When are you gonna do all this?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Bucky answered. “I thought…we could have tonight. The two of us. Just in case,” he added.

“Tonight,” Steve breathed, drawing Bucky’s face up towards his. “I’d like that.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from, soon enough,” Bucky grinned, meeting Steve halfway for a kiss.

“Oh yeah?” Steve mused, nipping at Bucky’s lower lip. “How many more?”

“Forever more,” Bucky moaned, suddenly filled with the heat of their reunion. “That sound good to you?”

“It’s a good start,” Steve agreed, smiling wickedly.

Oh yeah, Bucky though. Forever was definitely a good start.

 

**EPILOUGE**

“Pass me my drink?” Bucky asked, raising his sunglasses just a bit so he could peek out at Steve. They were lying together on a beach, on some forgotten island, letting the waves lap at their feet.

Steve passed Bucky a coconut, complete with a tiny pink umbrella, filled with some intoxicatingly sweet liqueur mixture. Bucky took a gratifying sip, the straw sucking at the bottom of the cup.

“You get enough there, Mr. Rogers-Barnes?” Steve jibed playfully, kicking Bucky’s ankle.

Just to be irritating, Bucky sucked on the straw a little harder. “Mmm, I don’t know, Mr. Rogers-Barnes.” He pretended to think. “I’m still sorta thirsty.” He pushed his sunglasses all the way up, resting them on top of his head. They held back his hair, which was almost down to his shoulders now, and curling at the ends from the saltwater. “You have anything else I could put in my mouth?” he leered.

Steve snorted, falling back into the sand. “You are the worst,” he laughed, squealing as Bucky rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. “I don’t know why I married you.”

“My charm, my wit, my incredible good looks?” Bucky listed, counting the items off on his metal fingers. A stark gold band stood out on the third finger, glinting in the hot sun.

“Damn, you’ve convinced me,” Steve acquiesced, gripping Bucky’s thighs. “I’m sold. You’re the worst, but you’re my worst.”

“Ain’t that right,” Bucky grinned, leaning down to kiss his husband. “I’m the worst-best.”

“Don’t get carried away there,” Steve murmured into the kiss. “Nobody said anything about ‘best.’”

Bucky’s smirk returned. “Actually,” he drawled. “I remember you saying something? Last night? When I had my tongue in your – ”

Steve shut that one down with a heady kiss. “I actually don’t remember,” he asserted. “How about we go inside and you remind me?”

“...With pleasure.”


End file.
